


Don't Frost the Pie

by Phoebsfan



Category: Alias (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-11-13
Updated: 2002-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:01:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24902761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoebsfan/pseuds/Phoebsfan
Summary: 2x6 episode tie in.  What might have happened during quarantine.
Relationships: Sydney Bristow/Michael Vaughn
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Don't Frost the Pie

To break the silence would be a sin.

I always wanted to sit with her in my arms like this, her head on my shoulder, my arm round her waist. Of course this scenario is definitely not the one in which I had planned this happening. No one plans having everything in the moment where you could lose it all.

And if any moment was a good one for severing ties this would be the best.

One of us could die.

Both of us could die.

Would it not be better to spare the other some grief and withdraw now?

I guess that's why we're silent.

Because we know it's smarter to withdraw, but we can't quite untangle ourselves. With the absence of words we are withdrawing to the best of our abilities.

Although I'm sure she knows just as I do, it doesn't mean shit and we can fool ourselves all we want. If one of us is sick there is no way in hell that the other isn't going to feel it. Putting all this possible feeling conjuncture aside we are friends.

Still words are truth.

We live in lies. Coat every aspect of our lives with them. And consequently the truth is so much more important to us. It's that rare gift we can't seem to obtain.

Still it's easier to lie, easier to remain silent. Easier to offer comfort with our bodies and keep the anguish of our minds to ourselves. To fight alone but together....it's what we're good at.

I wish sometimes we could break out of our pattern, out of the mold we've established for ourselves and shed some real truth on the web of lies.

It would only take one of us. Just a simple statement and that web would be torn down. And maybe I could get some sleep at night. In our silence is our lies. And it seems we just aren't strong enough to speak.

I wonder often if she wishes like I do that she could clear up the confusion, untangle the feelings, and set the record straight. If she too finds her mouth full of cotton and her pulse racing wildly, dizziness momentarily blinding her as she tries to open her mouth to speak. Only to find that the lies have sealed it with their silence.

If it were so I wouldn't hesitate to use my lips, the ones that won't speak, to loosen hers.

But our lives hang in the balance once more and silence permeates the small room. Paints the walls and soaks into the mattresses. Hopelessness hangs heavy and thick with it.

And so when we part no words have been exchanged. She simply smiles and lays down on the mattress across from me.

In an act of daring I defy my mouth and use my eyes.

We simple stare at each other until she drifts off.

I wonder what she was thinking....what she is dreaming.

And it's typical that the first words to break the silence between us are so inconsequential....

She mumbles in her sleep..."Don't frost the pie." Repeats it louder and with more urgency.

And I had foolishly been wishing she'd been dreaming of me. I let myself think it anyway.

Get lost in the image of cooking a turkey dinner for Thanksgiving with her. Helping her in the kitchen. Sneaking up behind her, hands covered in flour and grabbing her shoulders as I lean in to kiss her neck, trace kisses up to her ear. Then playfully wipe the flour on my hands down her sleeves as she turns around to leave a white hand print on my cheek with a smile. I grab more flour and smear it down her nose and in her hair.

We play and are covered in flour before we are done. I lift her onto the counter, stand between her knees and let myself enjoy the taste of her lips and tongue while she mindlessly coats my back in flour, pulling me closer urgently.

It's Will who pops his head into the kitchen to ask about dinner. She shoves me away and giggles.

"We're finishing it up now."

Magically a meal fills the counters. And oddly enough the meal consists of...yes...you guessed it...pie. It's a wonder where the turkey went...must be in one of the pies.

Will walks over to the counter and picks up a knife and some frosting...also magically appearing. And from there on out it's Sydney trying to convince Will that pie tastes much better without frosting..."Don't frost the pie."

"Hi." her voice wakes me from my daydream.

I hadn't realized how long it had been and I wonder when she woke up, I didn't catch it immediately.

"Hey." I tell her she talks in her sleep...tell her about the pie incident. I'm hoping that she will be able to break through the silence that we live by.

And just when I think she might we're interrupted. In minutes she's gone.

I could die and all I can think about is frosting a damn pie with Sydney.


End file.
